


Connect the Space Between

by horrendoushaddock



Category: Gundam Wing, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: AU, Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 17:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrendoushaddock/pseuds/horrendoushaddock
Summary: GW/TF. AU, G1/BW fusion. A series of oneshots. On that field they found true common ground. 2: Someone's trash is someone else's treasure. Duo & Ransack.





	1. Duty Calls

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY, SO. This fic is old as Methusala, but I've recently been semi-inspired to work on it again. So, for now, you get the two old pieces I wrote ages ago (that will eventually be revised), and hopefully I can summon the inspiration to continue this eventually.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not their war, but it is their world.

It starts with an electrical storm and a meteor shower. Twenty-four hours, six minutes and fifty-eight seconds post-impact, he gets a call. Lady Une's composure is visibly wavering on the vid-screen as she all but demands his immediate presence on earth. He doesn't ask questions, simply complies, then the screen goes black and he's left to surmise one thing:

This – whatever _this_ is, exactly – is bad.

* * *

 Someone got it right when they said that so long as mankind exists, there would always be battles, so Heero Yuy isn't at all surprised when he finds out they have another war on their hands. He is, however, a little taken aback when he's led to a hangar with the other ex-pilots and introduced to _what_ Une calls their new comrades.

It is safe to say that he, along with the other four, immediately think of Gundams as they look at the menagerie of giant robots presented to them. Except, they're nothing at all like Gundams; these robots are very much alive. It's unsettling at the very least.

Their leader – Optimus Prime – apologizes for bringing their war to this time and place, but “sorry” will do him no good, because in one fell swoop, these aliens have shattered the peace that had been maintained for four short years.

“It's not our war,” Heero tells Lady Une sternly.

“No,” she says, “but it is our world.”

Heero can't argue that, so he lets the Preventer explain their current situation. Confident these robots are allies, she will assign each a partner, because these robots will be as good protection from the opposing forces as any Gundam ever was, and these boys have all the know-how they will need to put an end to a centuries-old war.

While Une compromises with Optimus, Heero stands back, watches things play out. Quatre is already speaking with one of them, because Quatre is like that; willing and accepting and trusting. Until circumstances change, anyway. Then Quatre is just like the rest of them, hardened and impenetrable. The robot seems to at least appreciate Quatre's attempt at a warm welcome, but Heero wonders how quickly its opinion on the young millionaire will change once he sees him in the midst of a battle.

Duo is walking wide circles around another, head cocking from one side to the other, admiring the mechanics – and that's exactly what these are to him, Heero knows: cogs and gears and wires. It doesn't matter how sentient they seem to be; after Deathscythe's demolition, Duo swore off attaching himself to anything mechanical. Heero wonders what the Autobot would do if it knew the braided man wasn't as impressed as it would like to believe, if it knew he was merely picking it apart with his eyes.

Trowa and Wufei are quiet beside him, and he can't fathom what may or may not be going through either of their minds, save for the same thought that's going through his:

 _Not again_.

* * *

 

This war is not at all like the ones they've fought before, Heero realizes. It's a relatively quite one that keeps its soldiers on their toes if only because of the promise of a potential surprise attack, something the Decepticons seem rather fond of. It's an unorganized war, Heero thinks, so it's really no wonder it's lasted so long.

There have been no attacks for almost a week, and in this time Heero has had the chance to get to know his partner. Ultra Magnus is, in Heero's opinion, everything a robot should be, and sometimes reminds me a little bit too much of Wing Zero. He's a soldier through and through, at home on the battlefield and restless during these periods of calm. He takes orders better than he gives them, and doesn't think twice before rushing headfirst into a losing battle, because he knows the chances that he doesn't come out alive are slim.

Heero sees a lot of himself in Magnus, and decides that it's that acknowledgment that makes this whole mess a little bit easier.

“You don't want to fight, do you?” Magnus asks from beside Heero, never turning his optics away from the setting sun. Heero says nothing, something Magnus has learned usually means to continue with whatever introspection is being made, because the man likes to be put under the metaphorical microscope, likes to see just how many people can get him right. Thus far, he can count them on his fingers.

“I'm no expert on human emotions,” Magnus presses on, slowly, carefully, “but you seem reluctant to participate in this war.”

Heero doesn't look away from the setting sun, either. He saves the “when you've fought for as long as I have” speech for another time and person, and instead says, “once you've had a taste of true peace, it's not easy returning to the battlefield.”

Because people change and he was never perfect and he swore he'd never fight again.

“But you're a soldier,” Magnus retorts quietly, as though that is all there is, was, and ever will be to this man at his side. “You were designed for war.”

“Molded is a more accurate term, I think,” he says, finally looking up at the large robot. Magnus has this look on his face as though he doesn't understand, as though something is unable to process, and Heero thinks that may not be too far from the truth. He could carry on with something elaborate, like how he was born a blank slate just like every other human being on the planet, and how he could have turned out any other way but didn't because the wrong people got a hold of him and turned him into something cold and ruthless. He could tell him that it was just as easy to change because of the people he found himself surrounded by later on in life. But he doesn't say any of that. Instead, he shrugs with one shoulder and says,

“Things change.”

Magnus is quiet for a few moments, then slowly turns to look at Heero, finally meeting his gaze. “If that's true, then why are you even bothering with this war?”

One corner of Heero's mouth curves in the slightest and he shakes his head, sighing. He would suppose it's in his nature to be drawn to the field, and that's partly true, but that isn't the reason he agreed to join this war.

“Peace,” he says, because to obtain peace, wars must be fought.

“Peace?” Magnus asks, and Heero can tell it really is a hard concept for the Autobot to swallow.

“It's something worth fighting for.”

The crackling of static disrupts them, and Springer's voice comes through the comlink loud and clear.

_Stop slacking off and get your aft over here and help us build this fragging city._

“You should go,” Heero says, “it sounds like they need you.”

Magnus stands, nodding. “Do you want to come with me?” he asks. He doesn't need to tell Heero why he's requesting his company, he knows the young man will understand.

And Heero does, he understands perfectly that Magnus is beginning to process the concept of change. Whether it will happen for the Autobot is another question entirely, but the point is that he's trying, and that, Heero supposes, is all that matters for now.

“Why not?” he says and stands back to allow Magnus the room he requires to transform.


	2. Salvage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One man's trash is another's treasure.

“Are you certain sending them out together is a good idea?” Optimus asks, glancing down at the woman by his side.

“They were assigned to one another,” Lady Une says, crossing her arms over her chest as she watches the scene folding out in front of her: Ransack refusing to transform and Duo throwing his hands up in the air, threatening to walk off. Of course, Ransack tells him to go right ahead, it's no chrome off his dentals, and this leads to Duo suggesting that some alterations can, and should, be made.

“They'll have to get along eventually,” the Preventer says.

Optimus makes an uneasy sound, because he isn't so sure these two can sort their troubles out. They're frighteningly similar and at the same time vastly different, and Optimus knows enough to know that walking contradictions rarely compliment each other.

“I hope you're right,” the Autobot leaders mumbles, watching as Ransack finally transforms, but drives off before Duo can mount him. This leaves Duo fuming, cursing words the mech has never heard before but make Une clear her throat, all but scolding him.

“I know, I know,” Duo snaps, though he doesn't mean to take it out on his superior. “But – but, come on, Lady! You can't seriously expect me to work with that hunk of junk!”

“I do,” she confirms, a small smile tugging at her lips. There's just something amusing about the way this young man flails. “And do watch your language in the presence of our guests.”

He clearly mutters something about all of them being wastes of metal, but ultimately sighs and rakes a hand through his bangs. “Whatever. If you want me out there scouting, you can get his ass back here.”

Une and Optimus exchange glances. She nods, and he slowly radios in to the other mech. The argument that follows is one of the strangest Duo has ever witnessed. Until now, he thought only Trowa could argue in a way that was polite and biting all at once. Once all is said and done and the motorcycle is on his way back to Preventer headquarters, Duo is shaking his head, sighing.

“The chances only one of us comes back from this are pretty high, you know that, right?”

Optimus makes that uneasy sound again, but Une simply offers him an almost-coy smile. “Get to work, Mr. Maxwell.”

 

* * *

 

Scouting goes as predicted: horribly. Duo hates the fact that he's being forced to rely on this machine, and he doesn't care how alive it is, it's still just a damn piece of mechanics to him. He, like Heero, hates the fact that these aliens were careless and destroyed the peace they had fought so hard to obtain. He hates everything about this mess.

Ransack has a general dislike of nearly everything, but he really doesn't care for the fact that he's being forced into a partnership, and with a human no less. Humans are weak and frail and can do nothing to help their cause, he doesn't care how street-smart or tough they're supposed to be. He'd like to see this braided loud-mouth try his hand against Megatron; he bets that'd turn out real good.

They argue a lot while on patrol, toss insults at one another carelessly and inevitably wind up returning to headquarters not on speaking terms.

This happens every time they're sent out together. They argue going out and they're silent coming back, but Lady Une doesn't see the problem with this despite the complaints.

She knows it's the silence that really counts, not the razor-blade words.

 

* * *

 

Weeks pass, and one of their routine arguments is coming to a slow halt.

“I could do wonders with all the parts you're wastin',” Duo says snidely, only half-kidding. He personally would love to get his hands on Ransack and see just what makes him tick.

“Try it,” the motorcycle sneers back, taking a sharp turn, but isn't quite able to shake the man off. One day, he swears he will; that iron grip of Duo's will falter eventually.

“Don't tempt me,” Duo retorts, and he means it.

“I'm shakin', pal. I'm shakin'.”

Duo sighs out loud, a half-hearted grin on his lips. He's about to say something witty, perhaps cruel, when a good portion of the street in front of them is blown away. Concrete goes flying and cars skid and people scatter and this isn't good.

“You gotta be shitting me,” Duo groans as he dismounts Ransack once the motorcycle's come to a stop.

“Wonderful,” Ransack mutters, transforming, optics on the sky. “Seekers.”

“Great,” Duo huffs, more frustrated than anything. “If I had Deathscythe – ”

“Yeah, well, ya don't, do ya?” Ransack is quick to state, taking out a pistol and aiming at one of the jets in the sky. “All ya got is me right now, so get outta the slaggin' way or you're gonna get scrapped.”

For once, Duo has nothing to say. He stares and thinks as he watches the silver and gold robot fire at the approaching Decepticons, hitting his mark each time.

“Ya deaf or somethin'?” Ransack snaps. “Move!”

“Going soft, Ransack?” a red and white seeker goads from above. “Not only did you desert the Decepticons in favor of the Autobots, but now you protect the humans as well? How pathetic!”

Ransack mutters under his breath, red optics dimming for a moment, but he's quick to regain himself and fire repeatedly on the smart-mouthed antagonist. While there's a moment's peace, he turns quickly to Duo, who's still in the same place Ransack told him not to be just seconds ago.

“Look, I know we don't like each other or nothin', but whether we like it or not, we got orders,” Ransack says, and his tone is serious for the first time since they've met. “An' my orders are t'make sure ya don't get killed in this war. So when I say move, you move, got it?”

Duo gapes a second longer before nodding, a faint smirk on his lips. “Never woulda thought you had a loyal,” he pauses, struggles to find the right word, “circuit in you. I'm impressed. Considering what that dolt you shot down said.” It's a low blow, he knows, but one he couldn't resist taking.

“Yeah, well,” Ransack does this thing with his optics, making it look as though the lights inside his cranium actually roll, “s'a long story.”

Duo hums in thought for a few seconds, then looks around and notices the seekers are retreating, the other two are carting off the injured one. He turns his attention back to Ransack, shrugs with one shoulder and says, “I got time.”

Ransack's optics widen, then he smirks at the human in front of him. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Because orders are orders and he's not going to go wrong this time, and maybe working with this braided guy won't be so bad after all.

And, Duo thinks simultaneously, maybe he can learn to like Ransack, if he tries hard enough. Because even if he isn't Deathscythe, he deserves a chance – something he assumes no one else has ever given him before. Except maybe for Prime, but even then Duo has his doubts that the Autobot leader has complete trust in the turncoat.

They return to headquarters, silent, but Une doesn't fail to notice the different air around them.

“You should have radioed for help,” she scolds, never letting on she's inwardly pleased the tension between them is slowly being vanquished. “It was reckless of – ”

“Eh,” Ransack interrupts, a smug grin on his mandibles, “it was nothin' I – er, we couldn't handle.”

“We?” Une presses on, intrigued.

“We,” the pair confirms, and they like the sound of that.


End file.
